Yaw
by Frost Deejn
Summary: A cruise ship is sabotaged. The first mate is found dead. A million dollars in emeralds are missing. The CSIs sort through the evidence and their own personal issues to solve the case. The investigation takes an unexpected turn when a suspect is murdered.
1. Detour

Disclaimer: I did not create _CSI: Miami_, and am in no way profiting from this work of fanfiction.

**Yaw**

Chapter 1: Detour

The Atlantic waves gently lapped at the edges of the small cruise ship _Cynethryth_. A few dozen partiers occupied its deck, eating, drinking, making small talk, and enjoying the weather. The Florida coast was visible in the distance off the starboard side of the ship. To port, slightly closer, a row of mangrove islands. A steady breeze took the edge off the morning heat.

"Have you ever been to the Bahamas, Ms. Onan?" asked a refined middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair.

"This will be my first time. Have you, Mr. Thorpe?" replied a thirty-something woman with long brown curls draped over her shoulders.

"This is my third trip this year. Usually I fly, but this time I decided I deserved a little vacation along the way. Are you going for business or for pleasure?"

"I've never been able to distinguish between the two," Ms. Onan replied smoothly before taking a delicate sip of her margarita.

"A woman after my own heart."

He was about to say something else when a shudder reverberated through the ship. All conversation ceased in an instant. A few people were knocked off their feet. The woman's drink spilled down the front of her lime green sundress.

"What happened?" people began to ask. The ship had stopped moving, and was tilted at an angle.

"We hit something."

The captain came out. "We hit a sandbar. Is everyone alright? Was anyone hurt?" He and the other crew members walked through the ship, assessing the damage.

The captain was walking through the hall between the sleeping quarters when he detected a sickly metallic smell. Turning a corner, he found the source: his first mate, lying on the floor in a pool of blood.

* * *

"First blush, COD is exactly what it looks like. This man was killed by a single gunshot to the head," Dr. Price determined.

"This man's name is Frederico Costa," Horatio said. "And I'm guessing by the broken door that he was not the primary target here."

"No bullet casings. Looks like whoever shot Mr. Costa took a moment to clean up the scene," Calleigh noted while snapping photographs.

"Whoever broke in this door was on a mission. The first mate might have interrupted a thief," Ryan suggested. "We need to find out who's room this is." He pushed his way through the broken door. The cramped space was cluttered with pieces of broken wood, scattered clothes, and the pillow and sheets from the bed. "Someone was definitely looking for something specific."

Horatio looked down at the body. "And now," he said, "so are we."


	2. Findings

Chapter 2: Findings

Ryan searched every inch of the tiny cabin, from the broken door to the curved wall, documenting every scrap, every scrape, every scattered piece of paper without gaining any better idea of the person the room belonged to or what the killer was looking for. He photographed everything.

Spotting what looked like a piece of tape on the floor, he stooped down, photographed it, then carefully placed it in an evidence bag. From his position near the floor he could see another shred of tape hanging from the underside of the bed. He snapped more pictures. It looked like something had been taped to the board. "But what would someone be hiding?" he wondered aloud.

"What was that?" Natalia called from the crime scene outside the door.

"It looks like something was hidden under the bed."

"Drugs, maybe?"

He shook his head uncertainly. "I don't know. It seems kind of weird to be smuggling drugs from Miami to the Bahamas."

* * *

"It makes no sense," said the ship's captain, Nicholas Welch. "We shouldn't have even hit the sandbar. We had to be off course, but I can't figure out why. Do you think it could have to do with my first mate's death?"

"What do you think, Captain?" Calleigh asked.

He shook his head. "I've taken this route dozens of times. The navigation system could have been calibrated wrong, but I find it hard to believe it's just a coincidence we'd shipwreck at the same time Frederico gets shot."

"Is it possible someone tampered with the navigation system?"

"Maybe. If so, it had to be before we left port, when the control room was unattended. It wouldn't have been easy, though."

Calleigh made a mental note to have their computer analyst look at the navigation system as soon as they got back. "Do you know anyone who would want to kill Mr. Costa?"

"No," the captain replied thoughtfully. "He never mentioned any enemies. I really can't think of anyone. I'm sorry."

* * *

"One hundred and twenty-four passengers and crew, and not one of them with GSR on their hands," Eric reported. "And I didn't see any blood spatter on their clothes."

"No one heard a gun shot, or saw anyone acting suspiciously," Detective Tripp said. "And the gun hasn't shown up."

"What do we know about the passenger who was staying in the room the killer broken into?" Horatio asked, walking up behind them.

"The room belongs to..." Tripp opened his notebook, "a Ms. Clara Onan."

"Onan..."

"You know that name?" Eric asked.

"I do. And I think I have a good idea what the killer was looking for, Eric. Where is Ms. Onan now?"

"That's her in the green dress," Tripp said.

He and Eric followed Horatio over to the woman.

"Ms. Onan. I'm Horatio Caine. Do you mind if I ask you some questions?"

"You're a CSI?" she asked.

Eric tilted his head. "You know what a CSI is?"

"Let's just say that in my line of work I cross paths with criminal investigators more often than I would prefer."

"Ms. Onan," Horatio said again. "Could you tell me exactly what kind of jewels you were transporting?"

She gave him an unpleasantly indirect glance. "I see my reputation precedes me," she sighed. "Twenty uncut Colombian emeralds, potentially loupe-clean. Estimated value at least one point five million. I was taking them to a gem auction in the Bahamas next week. They were in a small box taped to the underside of the bed. If your people haven't found them, I can only assume the thief did."

"Who knew you were here?"

"I didn't tell anyone what boat I was taking, or even that I was going to the Bahamas by boat instead of plane. The only thing I can think is that one of the crew or another passenger recognized me. I should have used an alias when I booked, but I didn't think it would be necessary."

"So you mean to tell me you have absolutely no idea who could be behind this."

"No, Mr. Caine; I do not," she replied.

"Ms. Onan," he said, putting on his sun glasses, "for your sake, that had better be the truth."


	3. Fragments

Chapter 3: Fragments

Horatio entered the morgue, where Dr. Price was autopsying the victim's body. "What do we have?"

"Not much. I noticed a perimortem bruise on the side of the victim's head. It wasn't visible at the crime scene because it was covered in blood. It looks like the killer kicked him in the temple."

"Trying to kill him faster, or at least making sure he didn't scream," Horatio noted.

"There was a smudge of dirt, probably from the killer's shoe. It contained some kind of plant material. I already sent it up to Trace."

"Have you recovered the bullet?"

"Not yet. I'll send it up to ballistics as soon as I do."

He nodded. "Thank you, Dr. Price. Keep me informed."

* * *

Jane looked up from the computer when Ryan walked into the Audio-Visual lab.

"Did you find anything?" he asked.

"Calleigh was right: the ship's navigation system was definitely hacked."

"Could someone have done it remotely?"

"Not a chance. Someone had to actually open the computer panel and physically disable the alarm system to even get close to the navigation system."

"Which means there might be fingerprints on the computer's casing," Ryan mused.

"Unless the hacker wore gloves," Jane replied pessimistically.

"I'll get Eric to check it out. Thank you."

* * *

Natalia caught up with Horatio in the hall outside his office. "Hey H., we got the analysis back from the plant material Dr. Price found on the victim."

"What was it?"

"Fibers from the leaves of a_ Rhizophora mangle_: the red mangrove," she answered. "Also, a high concentration of seawater."

"There were mangrove islands near the shipwreck, weren't there. You know what this means?"

"That we didn't find any trace of blood or GSR on anyone from the boat because the killer wasn't _on _the boat," she speculated. "He came from the ocean."

"There were open portholes on the cabin level," Horatio recalled. "The killer could have entered through one of them unnoticed when the ship stopped at the sand bar."

"But wouldn't someone have to know exactly where the boat would be in order to lie in wait for it?"

"That's right, Miss Boa Vista. And it appears that's exactly what someone did."

* * *

Calleigh was paged to the morgue. "You found the bullet?" she asked Dr. Price.

"Pieces of it. One single gunshot; the bullet fragmented when it hit the victim's skull and entered the brain at different angles. The bleeding indicates the wound wasn't immediately fatal." She handed Calleigh a small plastic bag containing several different bits of metal. "Do you think you could match those frags to a bullet?"

"If I had another bullet to compare it to I could try," she answered, frowning. Her cellphone rang. "Excuse me," she said as she walked away.

* * *

"You found a suspect?" Horatio asked as he walked up to Eric.

"I ran some fingerprints from the _Cynethryth'_s computer. Most of them matched the ship's crew, but I found one set that didn't." He brought up an image on the screen: a mug shot of a young woman with black hair and large brown eyes.

"Talulla Barker," Horatio read. "Identity theft, unlawful network intrusion, and credit card fraud."

"And only nineteen," Eric added. "Shall I pick her up?"

"Let me do that. I have another job for you."

Eric looked at him expectantly.

"We got a report," Horatio explained, "from a fisherman who saw a man on a jet ski throw something into the ocean around the time of the murder. He said it could have been a gun. I need you and Calleigh to find it."

Eric wasn't about to complain about spending a few hours on a boat with Calleigh, and diving in Biscayne Bay;. "I'll head out as soon as I can."

"Thank you. Calleigh will be waiting for you at the marina."


	4. Delineations

Chapter 4: Delineations

Horatio regarded Talulla Barker from across the interrogation table. The young computer hacker looked back at him steadily, waiting for the accusations to begin.

"Do you know why you're here, Miss Barker?" he asked.

"No idea. Did you have some computer crime and you needed to find someone to pin it on?"

"The crash of the _Cynethryth._ You sabotaged the navigation system to make sure the ship went off course."

"You ain't pinning that on me," she coolly informed him. "I had nothing to do with that."

"I'm afraid that we have proof you did. Miss Barker, you left your fingerprint on the computer panel."

"A lot of people have similar prints. Besides, how do you know my prints didn't get on the computer some other way? You could have planted them."

"I doubt a jury would reach that conclusion."

"I dealt with juries before. If you had enough to prove I was involved, you would've arrested me already."

"Miss Barker, I don't think you realize the kind of trouble you're in here. Thousands of dollars in damage to the ship, millions in missing jewels, and one dead man. I don't think you planned any of that, but if you don't tell me who hired you, Miss Barker, you're not just obstructing justice, you're an accessory to murder."

She stared at him. Worry was just beginning to show through her nonchalance.

"Things," Horatio continued, "are going to go a lot better for you if you cooperate with us."

"I want a deal," she said. "I ain't going down for obstruction or this murder charge, okay?"

"I'll see what I can do."

"I was paid to hack the ship's computer. A guy came to me, gave me a thousand, promised me another four thou when the job was done. He didn't tell me what the job was for. I just did it."

"I need a name."

She shook her head. "He didn't tell me his name."

"Can you describe him?"

"Yeah. Brown hair, clean-shaved, about as tall as you, kinda hot, thirty-something."

"Okay. Good. I'll need you to describe him to a sketch artist, and I'll need the money he gave you."

"The sketch: fine. The money: I already spent it."

* * *

Ryan walked into the Miami office of the GeoZet Corporation, the company that the stolen emeralds belonged to.

"Do you have an appointment?" the receptionist asked without looking up from his computer.

"Yeah, I'm here to see Keith Sutton." He held out his badge.

The receptionist picked up his phone. "Mr. Sutton," he said after a moment, "the police officer is here to see you."

Ryan was directed into a lavish office. Glass cases displaying a variety of cut and uncut gemstones lined the walls. The mahogony desk in the center of the room was spotless, uncluttered, and imposing.

The man behind the desk was, at first glance, less imposing than his office. Keith Sutton was a stocky, pale, middle-aged man with receding brown hair, dressed in a dark blue business suit. He stood to greet Ryan.

"Hi. I'm CSI Ryan Wolfe."

"Keith Sutton. My friends call me Keith," he said, shaking his hand. "Please have a seat. How can I help you?"

Ryan sat down in the red leather-upholstered chair across from Sutton's. "For starters, we need to know who knew about the emerald shipment."

"Of course you do. We tried to keep a low profile, but of course there were a number of people who knew about the emeralds." He took a large manilla envelope from his desk. "This is a list of people in Nassau involved in the auction, including the employees of a security firm hired by the auction house and all potential buyers." He pulled out another envelope. "These are the files of the mining company that extracted the emeralds in Colombia. Besides half a dozen executives, none of them have been in the United States for the past year, although nineteen of the company's employees have family in the U.S. they have regular contact with." A third envelope came out of his desk. "The emeralds were appraised by my own experts right here in this building. I've arranged these files in the order of who had the most contact with the gems, starting with Clara Onan, but including everyone who works in this building. Anyone who knew about Onan's movements could have concluded she was transporting some variety of precious gems without knowing the details, so I have also taken the liberty of compiling a list of travel agents, drivers, and hotel and airline employees who had contact with her." Another envelope was added to the pile. "Is there anything else you need from me?"

Ryan gathered the four thick envelopes. "Who knew Onan would be on that boat?"

"I didn't even know that. Miss Onan's the best in the business at this kind of thing. That's why I entrusted her with the emeralds' safekeeping. I'm frankly shocked and disappointed that this has happened. I'm assuming you'll want to ask my gemologist for the emeralds' specifications."

"Yes."

Sutton picked up the phone. "Patrick, please instruct Dr. Thurgood to bring the files on the emeralds to my office."

A minute later, a short middle-aged man with thick black-rimmed glassed entered the room.

Sutton made introductions. "Jack Thurgood is our top gemologist. He can answer any questions you have about the emeralds."

Dr. Thurgood handed a thick folder to Ryan, slipping it on top of the four envelopes. "I'm not sure how much it will help you, but these are the specifications of each of the missing emeralds: photographs, carat weight, density, clarity, chromium and vanadium concentrations, et cetera. At least if you find twenty emeralds just lying around you'll know whether they're ours or not."

"Thanks," Ryan said.

"Is there anything else I can help you with? Keith instructed me to give you our full cooperation."

"Do you know of anyone in the company who may have wanted to get their hands on those emeralds?"

"Try everyone," Dr. Thurgood joked. "They were amazing specimens. But no one knew how Clara Onan was transporting them. She's incredibly secretive."

"Did you know?"

He shook his head. "Keith just brought the gems to my lab for me to verify Onan's assessment. She barely said a word to me. I guess someone could have seen her get on the boat or recognized her name on the passenger list. She's quite well known in some circles. Will that be all?"

"Yeah. For now."

Dr. Thurgood left.

"Is there any other way I can aid in your investigation?" Sutton inquired.

"If there's anything else we need," Ryan said, shifting the heavy stack of files in his arms, "we'll let you know. Thank you, Mr. Sutton."

"Just, please, find my jewels. And call me Keith."

* * *

Sunlight shimmered on the waves of Biscayne Bay as Calleigh and Eric piloted a motorboat toward the area where they hoped they would find the killer's gun.

Calleigh checked a GPS. "Looks like this is the spot," she commented, and began to slow the boat. "The water is pretty shallow right here, so our magnetometer should be able to pick up the metal from a gun to within a meters or two. We should be done in no time."

Eric was double-checking his scuba gear. With the beautiful view, the perfect temperature, and the company of Calleigh, he was in no hurry to get back to the lab.

"How do you think the killer knew what room to find the jewels?" Calleigh asked conversationally as she watched the image on the magnetometer's computer screen. "Do you think the victim was in on the heist, and his partner killed him so he wouldn't have to split the profits?"

"I doubt it. It's more likely Costa was just in the wrong place at the wrong time," he said. "H seems to suspect the woman transporting the jewels might have been in on it."

"It's possible. But according to the witness statements, she was on deck with the rest of the passengers when Costa was shot."

They fell quiet for a few minutes.

"Oh look, we got something," Calleigh announced. "Could be the gun. Looks like it's about six or seven meters down."

Eric attached his oxygen tank. "I just hope the current hasn't buried it."

"If the gun is down there, I'm sure you'll find it," Calleigh said, giving him one of her smiles bright enough to rival the Miami sunshine.

He pulled on his diving mask.

Calleigh was still smiling as she watched Eric plunge into the water.

Eric descended slowly toward the seafloor. Small fish darted past. Seaweed drifted back and forth in the currents. Shafts of sunlight cut through the green-blue murk, shifting with the waves several meters above. He began swimming slowly along the bottom, trying not to disturb the silt below.

"How's visibility?" Calleigh's voice asked over the radio in his headset, sounding small and surreal against the deep background murmur of the ocean.

"Not good. This may take longer than we thought."

The heavy silence of the ocean closed in on him again. Eric continued his slow, careful search through the shadowy water. A few minutes later, he caught a deeper shadow passing over the seafloor in his peripheral vision.

Eric looked up quickly. He didn't see anything, but it seemed like the water was moving differently. His heart began to pound. He wasn't afraid of sharks, but any diver would be foolish not to be aware of the risk they posed.

A large, dark shape emerged from the gloom.

"Cal!"

Calleigh suddenly snapped to attention when she heard the fear in his voice over the radio. "Eric, what's going on? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." His voice was filled with relief. "It's a manatee. I thought it was a shark."

She smiled. "You had me worried for a second."

"I've never seen one close up before. It's going toward the surface, you might be able to see it in a minute."

Calleigh watched the waves until the bulky marine mammal came up halfway between the boat and a nearby mangrove island. It lifted its snout out of the water to take a breath before swimming away slowly. "I see it," she said.

A minute later, Eric broke the surface and began swimming toward the boat. He lifted a gun out of the water. Calleigh held out an evidence bag for him to drop it in.

Eric took off his scuba mask. He was smiling. "That was incredible."

Calleigh smiled back at him, then nodded to the gun in the evidence bag. "We saw an endangered species and found the probable murder weapon. I'd say this counts as a good day."


	5. Examining Evidence

Chapter 5: Examining Evidence

Horatio could tell from Calleigh's walk when she approached him that she'd found something. "What do you have?"

"Do you want the good news or the bad news first?" she asked.

"Both."

"The gun we recovered was registered, but it was reported stolen on Sunday night."

"And the shooting took place the next morning. That's convenient."

"The man who reported it stolen is a high school teacher. He was in class during the time of the shooting. I checked. He has a concealed weapon permit for the gun. According to the report he gave police, someone bumped into him while he was walking to the grocery store, grabbed his sleeve, and apologized. The next thing he knew, the gun was gone."

"Did he provide a description of the suspect?"

"A man in his thirties, well-groomed, light brown hair. That's all he could remember."

Horatio nodded. "So the suspect grabbed his sleeve. Do we have that shirt in evidence?"

"I had the same thought. It's on its way to DNA now."

* * *

Ryan dropped by the DNA lab.

"Hey Ryan. How's it going?" Maxine asked.

"It's going to be a long day. The files I got from the GeoZet guys, there are over two hundred names of people who could possibly have had something to do with the jewel heist, but no evidence which if any of them did."

"Well, what I find on this shirt might be able to narrow it down." Maxine dabbed a swab on the sleeve.

"This has to do with the Costa case?"

"Yep."

Ryan looked skeptical. "I don't see any blood or sweat on the shirt."

"The man who stole the gun grabbed this sleeve with his bare hand. We might find some touch DNA."

"Touch DNA?"

"Skin cells left where someone touches something. Not enough to be visible, but if you know exactly where to look you can get enough to process."

"Now we just have to hope he's in CODIS."

Maxine shrugged. "An experienced pickpocket willing to kill someone over a handful of rocks; I'm betting he's in CODIS."

* * *

Even though the only probable scenario was that the gun they recovered was the same one used in the murder, it was only circumstantial unless they could match it to the bullet fragments from the body. The saltwater had contaminated any fingerprint or DNA evidence from the gun, and trace had already been over it, finding nothing. Now it was up to Calleigh.

She had the gun on a table in the ballistics lab. It would take some work to get it to fire so she could try to compare the stria to the fragments.

As she worked, her mind drifted, as it often did, to Eric. Their relationship was becoming complicated. He was her friend, her coworker, and she didn't want to do anything to risk that, not when she wasn't sure how sincere he was about his feelings for her. Whenever she tried to figure out how she felt about him, she become overwhelmed with a sensation like vertigo, and had to take a step back.

But yesterday, when she'd heard his frightened voice calling her name from beneath the waves, she was gripped for a moment with panic that she would lose him, like she almost had when he was shot. How could she be so terrified both of losing him and of getting closer to him? She couldn't even tell what she was afraid of.

Still pondering her ambivalence, Calleigh pulled on earphones and safety goggles, then aimed the gun. Outwardly, she seemed the very image of composure as she pulled the trigger.

* * *

"Hey, H." Eric caught up with him, carrying a report from the DNA lab. "The skin cells on the shirt got a hit in CODIS."

Horatio took the file. "Gerard Torres. Sentenced to twelve years for multiple counts of fraud, out early on good behavior."

"He claimed to be reformed, charmed his way past the parole board, got out three years ago. He's been working off and on as a business consultant ever since. Lateral career move for a conman."

Horatio chuckled. The mugshot was of a handsome man with brown hair, bearing a strong resemblance to the sketch made from Talulla Barker's description of the man who hired her.

"This should be enough for a warrant," Eric commented.

"Let's go."


	6. Compiling Clues

Chapter 6: Compiling Clues

It was shortly after noon when Horatio and Eric arrived at the house of their suspect, Gerard Torres.

"The reformed conman seems to be doing quite well for himself," Horatio commented, noting the spacious house's landscaped lawn and the black convertible parked in the front.

"I bet stealing emeralds isn't all he's been up to," Eric said.

Horatio knocked on the front door. "Gerard Torres, Miami-Dade PD."

When there was no answer. Eric tried the doorknob. "It's unlocked," he said.

They pulled out their guns. Horatio slowly opened the door, then went inside. Eric and the police officers accompanying them followed.

"This room is clear."

Eric looked in the kitchen. "H, I found the body."

Horatio joined him at the door to the kitchen. Gerard Torres was on the floor, face down, blood spatter dotting the otherwise spotless white linoleum.

"'Live by the sword...'" Eric quoted solemnly.

"Or, in this case, the toaster." Horatio walked across the room, careful to avoid stepping in blood, and looked into the sink.

"Why is the toaster in the sink?"

"Because," Horatio answered, "it's a murder weapon, and the killer tried to wash off his or her fingerprints." The metal toaster was dented in several places, the cord was broken, and there were streaks of blood and clumps of the victim's hair stuck to it.

"Someone beat this guy to death with a toaster? That takes a lot of rage."

"Yes it does. I doubt this was premeditated."

"And it means the victim knew his killer," Eric added.

"Which means that the killer could have left traces of him or herself anywhere in this house."

* * *

"Time of death was between seven and eight o'clock this morning," Dr. Price said. "I'll have to confirm it in autopsy, but it looks like he was hit five times in the back of the head. The first one was the worst. It probably would have been fatal all by itself."

"I'll canvass the neighborhood, see if the neighbors saw anyone coming or going," Frank said.

Horatio nodded. "Keep in mind that this is in all likelihood connected to the Costa case."

"You think the same person committed both murders?" Price asked.

"What I think is that Gerard Torres had a partner, one intent on radically renegotiating the terms of their deal."

"There are no fingerprints on the toaster," Eric reported. "The killer did a good job of wiping it down."

"Have it sent to DNA; the killer may have left blood." His cellphone rang. He glanced at the caller ID as he answered. "Miss Boa Vista, talk to me."

She was processing an upstairs bathroom. "I found traces of dried blood on a wetsuit. I'm betting it's Frederico Costa's."

"If it is and we find Torres' DNA on that wetsuit, we can prove he was the killer. Good. Did you find anything else?" he asked.

"Nothing. I was just about to head back to the lab."

"Do that. Let me know when we get confirmation on that blood." Horatio flipped his phone closed and stood thoughtfully for a moment.

"What are you thinking?" Eric inquired.

"That these emeralds are beginning to look rather red."

* * *

Natalia passed through the living room, which Ryan was processing.

"What you got there?" Ryan asked, looking at the large evidence bag.

"Bloody wetsuit. You found anything?"

"Not much. The only things that seem out of place is an empty wine bottle on the desk, a small telephoto camera hidden behind the bookshelf, a Chinese dictionary under the couch, and a variety of fake IDs and credentials hidden inside a hollowed-out television repair instruction manual."

"Wow. I can't imagine how many more secrets this guy has tucked away."

"I know," Ryan agreed. "With how many enemies he probably had, we can't even be sure yet that his murder was connected with our other case."

"At least this DNA should tell us for sure whether he killed Costa," Natalia said.

* * *

Eric had moved on to processing the victim's bedroom. It was just as tidy and impersonal as the rest of the house. Carefully positioned around the room were smiling photographs of Gerard Torres with other people, but they all looked vaguely inauthentic, like pictures taken for advertisements. There was no hint of genuine warmth or happiness in any of them.

"The killer seems to have avoided leaving footprints."

Eric jumped slightly at the sound of Horatio's voice. His boss's silent footsteps were useful when confronting suspects, but could be disconcerting at times like these.

"Have his next of kin been contacted yet?" Eric asked.

"His family has not been located, no."

He shook his head. "No one deserves to die like this, all alone."

"But he didn't die alone," Horatio pointed out. "His killer was with him." He looked over the large, luxurious bed at the center of the room. "And I doubt Gerard Torres had any trouble finding company when he wanted it."

"That's different."

Horatio picked up on Eric's distracted tone. "I've noticed you haven't mentioned any girlfriends lately."

"Really? I guess I haven't."

"Tell me, does that have something to do with Calleigh?"

Eric froze.

In response to the unasked question, Horatio explained, "I wouldn't be much of a CSI if I missed what was going on between my two closest friends."

"There's nothing going on between us," Eric said. "But if there were, what would you do? Would you separate us?"

"On the contrary; I would be happy for you."

Eric turned toward him. "Thanks, H. But there's really nothing going on. I wish there were, but she doesn't feel the same way." He continued processing the room, hoping Horatio would drop the subject. He spotted something dark against the light gray carpet. "Look at this."

Horatio stooped to get a better look at what Eric found: a single long strand of curled brown hair. "Interesting. Eric, does this remind you of any of our suspects?"

"Yeah," he answered. "Clara Onan."


	7. Trove

Chapter 7: Trove

Clara Onan, dressed in a gray silk business suit, tapped impatiently on the table in the interrogation room. She glanced up when two people entered. One was the CSI who took her prints on the boat, Eric Delko. The other was a blond woman, uncommonly beautiful, with a somewhat falconish aspect to her features, and moldavite green eyes.

"Hello Ms. Onan. I'm Calleigh Duquesne. I'd like to ask you a few questions."

"Feel free. I can't promise I'll answer them."

The two CSIs sat down across the table. "What was your relationship with Gerard Torres?" Calleigh asked.

"Fifth cousins twice removed for all I know. I've never heard of him."

"That's funny," Eric said, "because we found evidence that you were in his house."

"I have no idea why," she replied. "Like I said, I don't know the man."

Eric dropped a photograph of the dead Torres in front of her. "Does this jog your memory?"

Onan picked it up and examined it curiously, no trace of disgust. "He told me his name was Justin," she stated.

"So you do know him?" Calleigh asked.

The suspect hesitated. "I didn't kill him."

"Well, we know he killed Frederico Costa, and then he ended up dead. That doesn't look good for you."

"I don't know anything about that. I met this man at a club Saturday night. He was...attractive, fun."

"You slept with him?"

"I didn't sleep. I went home with him, left about one a.m., never saw him again. I didn't even tell him my real name. I have no idea how he died."

"That's a really pretty little story," Calleigh said, "but it seems a lot more likely to me that you hired Torres to steal the gems, and then killed him."

"Why would I do that?" Onan retorted, as though it were readily obvious that she wouldn't.

Eric answered. "Because you knew you could get a lot more for those emeralds on the black market than GeoZet was paying you. And you couldn't just steal them yourself, because you knew you'd be the first person they searched."

"My _reputation_ is on the line here! I love my job a lot more than the money." She held up Torres' photo. "I can't figure out how he found me, or found out I would be on that boat, but I had nothing to do with the theft. Look, I have done a lot of things—and...people—that I'm not proud of, but I am _not_ a killer."

"Can you account for your whereabouts this morning?" Calleigh asked smoothly.

"I was at my hotel, and at the beach for a few hours."

"Did anyone see you?" asked Eric.

"No one I can name," she admitted grudgingly. After a moment, she said, "But the bartender at Club Gloriosa may remember me meeting this man Torres on Saturday night, at about ten. The bartender's name was Oscar. I know that won't prove my innocence, but it should at least support my contention that I'd never met this man before."

"I'll look into that," Calleigh said, jotting down the name of the club and the bartender before leaving the room.

Eric's gaze followed Calleigh for a moment. Onan's eyes flashed between the two of them.

"She's fiery as a diamond, isn't she?" she noted.

Eric turned toward the suspect. "Calleigh's the best CSI I know. If you're telling the truth, she'll prove it."

"Forgive me for not being reassured, but I know better than to unhesitantly trust cops."

"If you don't have anything to hide then you don't have anything to worry about."

"That's a big 'if'." She looked at him from the corner of her eyes. "I do have a lot of secrets. Secrets that could make an unscrupulous CSI very wealthy."

"Calleigh's scrupulous."

"You would say that," she said.

Her slightly conspiratorial tone made Eric nervous. "What do you mean?"

"Come on," she smiled. "In my business, it's useful to pay attention to people's desires. You're not that mysterious."

He dropped his eyes to the table. "Did you tell anyone you would be at the bar where you met Mr. Torres?"

"It was a spontaneous thing. Maybe he was following me. You know," she said, changing the subject, "she's attracted to you. She was trying not to show it, but she is."

"You're a suspect in a murder case; she's not the one you should be worrying about."

"You think so?" She glanced toward the window. "I imagine she has plenty of admirers. She probably has men lined up, willing to do anything for her. Can you imagine how lonely that must be?"

Eric blinked. "Lonely? Why?"

She scoffed. "Never knowing if the way men treat you is because they respect you or because you're beautiful. I'd hate that."

"I respect her," he said defensively.

"Do you?" Onan asked, then seemed to change the subject again. "Want to know a funny thing about gemstones? The only truly flawless specimens are lab created, which are worth a fraction of what naturally formed gems are worth, even though there's really no other difference between them. Perfection betrays deception. Gems, people...it's the flaws that make them interesting. If you really respected her, really valued her, then you'd see past her perfection to her flaws."

"There's only one problem with that," Eric said.

"Oh really? And what would that be?"

"Calleigh is perfect."

"Not even close: she's a perfectionist. Trying to avoid making any mistake is itself a mistake. I wouldn't be surprised if she tries to micromanage everything; if anything goes wrong—even if it's out of her control—she tends to blame herself. She never willingly takes a sick day. And it's hard for her to really get close to anyone because she's afraid that if people knew her better they would be disappointed that she's not as perfect as she seems. Sometimes that happens to children of alcoholics; they grow up feeling like they're the one who has to take care of everything."

Eric's jaw clenched involuntarily. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Believe me, I do," she replied. "I honestly feel sorry for her."

He stood up quickly, pushing his chair back with an angry clank. "Whatever you think you know, if you killed Gerard Torres we're going to take you down." He left the room.

Horatio, who'd been watching from the observation room, intercepted him in the hall.

"You saw that?" Eric asked, anger still lingering in his voice.

"I did."

"I'm sorry; I shouldn't have let her throw me off my game like that."

"You did fine. Clara Onan is highly intelligent and manipulative. She was trying to get to you, but I think she told us more than she meant to."

"Like what?"

"We know she knew Torres, we know she's hiding something, and now we know how far she's willing to go to make sure we don't find out what."

* * *

Ryan was sorting through the evidence they gathered at the Torres crime scene when a cell phone beeped. He automatically checked his own phone before realizing that it had come from the clothes the victim had been wearing. He eased the cell phone out of its case and found a text message: _thnx. alice wainwright park s palm tree x. _

He called Horatio. "Hey. Gerard Torres just got a text message from someone. It's pretty vague, but it could be a meeting place. Alice Wainwright Park. It doesn't say a meeting time. Right. I'll head out as soon as I take Torres' cell phone to the AV lab."

* * *

An hour later, Ryan and Natalia were walking towards the waterfront at Alice Wainwright Park.

"Wish the message had been more specific," Natalia said. "We're looking for a palm tree?"

"Yeah." Ryan glanced at the palm trees lining the shore. "The 's' in the text could be for 'south', so we should start in the south corner of the park."

"It would be nice if we had any idea what we were looking for."

They found a palm tree with a bright green 'x' painted on the trunk.

"Ryan, look. The ground's disturbed here. It looks like someone buried something."

"X marks the spot," Ryan joked. He flashed a couple of photos, startling an anole lizard, which turned from bright green to dull brown as it scurried into the unkempt grass.

Pulling on gloves, Natalia started shifting aside the loose dirt until her fingers brushed against something hard a few inches down. "It looks like some kind of plastic case." She carefully flipped open the clasps and lifted the lid.

He took a step closer. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Only if you think it's a whole heck of a lot of money," Natalia quipped, eyes wide at the stacks of hundreds and fifties stuffed in the case.

Ryan snapped another photo.


	8. Circumstances

Chapter 8: Circumstances

"The text came from a prepaid cell phone. There's no way to track it," Ryan reported. "So as of now we don't have any leads. Did you find any fingerprints on the case?"

Eric was watching fingerprints on the computer screen. "I found some partials, but they were too degraded from the dirt to find a match. I'm checking the money now."

"There must be dozens of prints on that money. How are you going to find out who left it?"

"I'm going to see what Desi gives me."

"What's Desi?"

"Desorption electrospray ionization. It uses a mass spectrometer to pick up the trace chemicals on the fingerprints. Not only does it sort out overlapping fingerprints, but it tells you what that person touched before handling the money."

Ryan nodded, watching as the mass spectrometer identified chemicals on the money. "Wait..." he said suddenly.

"What?"

"This one..." he pointed to one of the compounds the spectrometer had detected: Be3Al2Si6O18.

"You know what that is?"

"I must have read it a hundred times in the files I got from GeoZet. That's the chemical composition of beryl, the class of gemstones that includes emerald. What prints were that on?"

Eric highlighted the prints with the beryl trace, then ran them through AFIS. "If emerald dust got on the fingerprints, that probably means the emeralds are already cut. That's going to make them a lot harder to track down."

"But not impossible," Ryan said. "We could still identify them by the composition of their trace elements."

The computer beeped. "AFIS found a match: David Rosendo. He's done time for drug dealing, possessing stolen goods, and selling stolen goods."

"What was he selling?"

Eric scrolled through the arrest file. "Diamonds. He was caught in a pawn shop sting. And guess who he had for a cellmate?"

"Gerrard Torres?"

He nodded. "That answers one question: we know who Torres sold the emeralds to."

* * *

"Just a minute," David Rosendo called as he walked to his door. He opened it and found himself facing a man and a woman in plain clothes and a handful of cops behind them.

"David Rosendo?" the man said in a Texan accent.

"Who wants to know?"

"I'm Detective Tripp. This is Natalia Boa Vista from the crime lab. We have a warrant to search your property."

"For what, officer?" he asked smugly.

"Emeralds," Natalia answered simply, handing him the warrant.

He looked it over, unconcerned. "I don't have any. If I did, though, it's not like it's illegal for a guy to have some emeralds."

"It is if they're stolen, genius," Tripp said. "You could make our jobs easier and your sorry ass look better to the DA if you just tell us where they are."

"I told you I don't have any emeralds. Look as much as you want."

* * *

Calleigh reported back to Horatio and Eric. "The bartender confirmed Onan's story. Torres approached her at the bar and introduced himself. It didn't look like they'd met before."

"That could have been an act," Horatio pointed out.

Eric frowned, shaking his head slightly. "But if they knew each other and were planning the heist, why would they meet in public at all? It seems like it would be too risky. Besides, the evidence is looking like Torres sold the emeralds to David Rosendo."

"If Onan planned the heist and then Torres sold the gems out from under her, that would be plenty of motive to kill him," Calleigh pointed out.

"But not proof that she _did_ kill him. It still could have been Rosendo. He might have sent the text to throw suspicion off himself," Eric said.

"Do you really think he did?"

"No, but we have no proof either way."

Horatio listened to their exchange without comment, then said, "I would take a long look at Clara Onan if I were you."

Eric and Calleigh looked at him curiously. "Why? What do you know about her?" Eric asked.

"This isn't the first time she's been a person of interest in a case like this. Five years ago at a gem auction in San Francisco, a case of benitoite delivered by Clara Onan disappeared from the auction house vault. As a seller, Onan was one of the few people with access to that vault. The CSIs found the gems, which had been mislabeled as far less valuable sapphires which Ms. Onan had been planning to bid on. They couldn't prove she had stolen the benitoite, and the DA chose not to file charges. The case caught my attention," he continued, "because in New York in 1994, I investigated an attempted murder in which a diamond trader was beaten and hospitalized shortly before meeting with a supplier. Because this man was out of the running, a multimillion dollar contract went instead to a man named Johan Spijker, who was...infamous in the international gem trade for aggressive business practices, often unethical, if not illegal. Spijker was out of the country at the time of the attack, but his protegee was not. This woman, as you may have guessed, was none other than our prime suspect, Clara Onan."

"And I take it you couldn't build a case against her then," Eric said.

"By the time we connected the assault victim to the diamonds, and found DNA evidence that indicated the attacker was a woman, Onan had left the country. We never had the chance to question her."

"And by now the statute of limitations on that case is up," Calleigh commented.

"Indeed. Onan's history doesn't end there. Ten years ago, she was suspected of using bribery and blackmail to negotiate a deal on a jade mining operation in China for a Macanese businessman with whom she was rumored to be having an affair. When she used the resources of the American Embassy to prevent an investigation, the scandal almost became an international incident."

"This woman sounds like a real troublemaker," Calleigh commented.

"And it gets better." Whatever Horatio was going to say was postponed by the ring of his phone. "Caine."

"Hey, it's me," said Natalia. "We've been all over Rosendo's house. If the jewels are here, we're not finding them."

"He may have already sold them," Horatio noted.

"Maybe. We did find a security camera with a view of Rosendo's front door. If someone came by, we might be able to identify them."

"Let's hope so. Bring it in please."

"On it."

He closed his phone.

"What now?" Eric asked.

"We're going to question our suspects. Eric, would you take Mr. Rosendo?"

He nodded, grateful that he wouldn't be back with the too-perspicacious Onan.

* * *

Eric entered the interrogation room where David Rosendo and his lawyer were waiting.

"As far as I've been able to figure out, you have no grounds to hold my client," said the lawyer.

"We have him on receiving stolen goods," Eric retorted. "We know he paid Gerard Torres for the emeralds."

Rosendo was going to say something, but the lawyer motioned him to silence. "What evidence do you have that Mr. Rosendo has the emeralds in question?"

"We found his fingerprints, with emerald dust adhering to them, on the money he used to pay Torres."

"If my client bought those emeralds, which I'm not saying he did, can you prove that he knew they were stolen?"

"He knew Gerard Torres from prison; I can't imagine him being under the illusion his former cellmate came by those gems legally."

"Stranger things have happened," the lawyer said. "At any rate, if you're going to charge my client I'll need to insist that a neutral third party be brought in to examine the emeralds and determine whether or not they are indeed the emeralds which were stolen."

"Of course you will."

"Until then, my client will not be answering any more questions."

"He might want to cooperate," Eric said. "If he didn't kill Torres, the longer he delays the investigation, the more suspicious he's going to look."

Rosendo leaned forward. "Dude, think about it," he said. "If I killed Gerry, or had any idea he was even dead, why would I have given him the money?"

Eric couldn't think of an answer to that.

* * *

"Mr. Caine, Miss Duquesne." Onan smiled politely when the two CSIs entered the interrogation room.

"Thanks for coming back in, Ms. Onan," Calleigh said.

"I'm here because I want to help solve the murder, and I know I'm innocent."

"Are you?" Horatio asked.

Her eyes turned up to look at him, and a second later the rest of her face followed. "Do you have some reason you suspected me from the beginning, or do you just not like me?"

"Miss Onan, your old boss, Johan Spijker: how did he die?"

"This again," she grumbled under her breath before answering. "Natural causes. Heart attack."

"It must have been difficult to autopsy him in the middle of the African jungle, wasn't it."

"The autopsy was performed by Spijker's personal physician with state-of-the-art medical equipment. There was absolutely no evidence of poison."

"Spijker's personal physician who, upon his death, was working directly for you, isn't that right, Miss Onan?"

She glared at him for a second. "Yes, that is true. As his designated heir, I had the opportunity to take control of Spijker's company, but I chose to give up most of my stake in his corporation and become a free agent instead. I didn't benefit from his death nearly as much as I could have. I didn't kill him, and I didn't kill this man Torres."

"In that case, you shouldn't have a problem giving us permission to search your belongings," said Calleigh.

"For what?" she asked suspiciously.

"If you weren't involved in the murder or the heist," Horatio said, "then you shouldn't have anything to worry about."

Onan frowned. "My lawyer is flying in from Singapore. She'll be here within a few hours. At that time I'll consent to a search."

* * *

Natalia was in the AV lab, looking over the footage from David Rosendo's home security camera.

"You got anything?" Eric asked.

"We can see Rosendo arriving with a small black box, which probably contains the emeralds, and a few hours later leaving with the case of money. He got back an hour after that and didn't leave again until we arrived to search the place, and no one else came by."

"So the emeralds are probably still there."

"Yeah, but we went over that house from top to bottom. If the emeralds are still there, he has them in a great hiding place."

Eric looked at the screen for a moment. "From what Rosendo and his attorney said in interrogation, it sounds like they expect us to find them. Considering how long this guy spent in prison, I bet he picked up a few tricks for hiding things. I'll go see what I can turn up."

"Great. I'll see if I can get anything else off his security cameras."


	9. Close

Chapter 9: Close

"This is all the stuff from the hotel room?" Calleigh asked.

"My client travels light," Onan's lawyer replied.

"I can see that." Calleigh looked over the wheeled travel bag in which they'd found a few changes of clothes, the minimally necessary toiletries, and a geology journal. "Where did you keep the emeralds while you were traveling?"

With an unhappy sigh, Onan reluctantly turned the bag upside down, turned two of the wheels and pressed them in, then slid out a hidden compartment concealed in the bottom of the bag. "I removed them and hid them in the room on the boat in case my luggage was stolen," she explained.

"Prudent. Too bad that backfired." Calleigh picked up a small black book. "What is this, your planner?"

Onan's mouth opened to object, but her lawyer spoke up first.

"Yes it's her planner. It contains proprietary information, which you'll need a court order to see."

Calleigh had already opened it, wondering if the planner contained a hiding place as well. "What is this, Chinese?"

"Yes," Onan answered, "I keep my planner in Chinese. Unless I'm in a country where Chinese is commonly spoken, in which case I keep it in Spanish. I take my privacy very seriously."

"I guess that would be useful if you're planning a heist," Calleigh remarked as the lawyer took the book.

"Don't get me wrong, Ms. Duquesne," the gemologist said, "there's nothing in that planner that would incriminate me in any crime. I would be happy to let you take it if I trusted you, the translator, and everyone else who would then see it. But that's simply not the case."

"That's too bad. You'd look a lot less suspicious if you did."

Outside the room, Calleigh was joined by Horatio. "I don't think we have enough to hold her, much less prosecute her," Calleigh said.

"Not yet," Horatio agreed.

"I mean, all we've got her on is one hair, a serious case of paranoia, and a trail of rumors."

"We'll just have to make sure they don't stay rumors this time."

* * *

Eric had been searching David Rosendo's house, inch by inch, for hours without turning up anything. He was examining the wall panels on the stairs when he heard the door open. His hand automatically flexed for his gun before he saw it was Calleigh.

"Hey," she said. "I'm here to give you a hand."

"Thanks." He smiled at her before turning back to his work. "Natalia went over this place for hours, so if the emeralds are here, they won't be in any of the obvious places. Look for some kind of secret door or panel."

"Right," Calleigh replied, turning on her flashlight and starting along the wall of the living room.

"Did you get anywhere with Onan?" Eric inquired.

"Not really. There was no blood on her clothes, no evidence she had any prior contact with Torres. It's going to be hard to prove she killed him."

"You sound pretty sure that she did kill him."

"Well, Horatio's sure," she replied.

"I think H might be taking this case a little too personally."

"What makes you think that?"

"He has a history with her," Eric replied. "The case in New York...he couldn't get her then, so he's trying to get her now."

"You think it's clouding his judgment?"

"Could be."

Calleigh glanced up at him. "I don't think so. Horatio never lets his personal feelings interfere with finding the truth."

"You know I'm just as loyal to him as you are, but Horatio isn't perfect. He can be just as committed to his enemies as he is to his friends." He paused in his work and turned toward her. "I think that's your only imperfection: you don't see the problems in the lives of the people close to you."

She looked back at the wall, continuing along in her search. "What do you mean?" She sounded like she was trying not to sound angry.

"Like...Ryan's gambling, your father's drinking, my toothing." He hadn't wanted to add the last one, but felt compelled to point to his own problems after mentioning her father.

"It's not like there was anything wrong with that, as long as you were careful," she replied.

"Yes there was. It kept me from really getting close to anybody. Kept me from seeing some things that were right in front of me."

Calleigh didn't look at him. "I think you've got it covered in here; I'm going to go look in the yard."

Only the fact of her leaving told Eric she was angry. She was frustratingly skilled at hiding her feelings. He watched her go, his mouth open to deliver the apology he couldn't quite formulate. He'd upset her, and that bothered him. But he didn't think he was wrong.

Outside, Calleigh looked over the grass of Rosendo's yard, then traveled around toward the back, past a row of short palm trees and a magnolia tree. She didn't see any disturbed ground, or anything the emeralds could have been hidden in. Rosendo's yard was immaculate.

In the backyard was a small shed. She took out her flashlight and opened the door. Dozens of cockroaches scurried away from the light. She ducked inside and looked around at various supplies, equipment, and tools, including a small shovel with dirt on it, which could have been used to bury the money in the park.

Even as she examined the scene, her mind replayed Eric's words. She was angry, but the more she though about it the more her anger gave way to the reluctant admission that he had a point. It was almost a talent with her, how long she'd stubbornly denied to herself that her father was an alcoholic, how blithely she could rationalize away warning signs in her friends. That was the only way she could explain how long it had taken her to realize how much Jake drank. The time Natalia had her pregnancy scare, she'd dismissed it with a smile and the recommendation of chicken soup for the flu-like symptoms. And then there had been John Hagen...that had been the worst oversight of her life. Calleigh had no idea that her ex-boyfriend was suicidal until he pulled the trigger...

She closed her eyes against the memory that still haunted her.

So maybe Eric was right. Maybe she did have a blind spot when it came to the people she was close to. Maybe Horatio was wrong about Clara Onan being their killer. There was no direct evidence linking her to either murder. But it bothered her that Eric had said that, that he even thought that about her. Not that he'd sounded like he was criticizing her, but she was still a little shaken. It was disconcerting to have anyone see her so clearly.

But she trusted him, right? Even if he knew everything wrong with her, he wouldn't use it against her. But did he still feel the same way about her, knowing her problems?

Inside the house, Eric sighed over the stack of cushions he'd removed from the couches, the latest place he'd thought to look. He'd also checked inside the suspect's computer, in the freezer, behind every picture frame on every wall, inside the pillows and mattresses in the bedrooms, in every one of the closets and drawers in the house.

The door opened. Calleigh entered, looking contrite. "No luck?" she asked quietly.

"No. If he got the stones cut already, they could be small enough to hide inside just about anything."

"There's no sign of them outside, either." She stooped down next to him, looking at her gloved hands, which were flecked with dirt. "I'm sorry," she said. "You're right. I do...tend to ignore when my friends have problems. And I shouldn't assume Onan's guilty just because Horatio thinks she is."

"No, I'm sorry. It's just that, Calleigh, you're..." He wasn't even sure what he wanted to say. "I was wrong. I'm in no position to criticize you on anything, either professionally or personally. You're the best CSI and the best friend I can imagine."

"No, Eric. When I make a mistake I need someone to call me out on it. I need you to respect me enough to challenge me, otherwise we shouldn't even be working together. Thank you."

He looked up, meeting her eyes, and smiled. A long moment later, he broke eye contact, because he was afraid if he didn't he would kiss her. "Now if only we could figure out where Rosendo hid the emeralds."

"Well, we know from his security video that he didn't have them with him when he left, so they have to be here somewhere. Let's go back to the fingerprints: he had emerald dust on his hands, maybe he had something else that could tell us what else he touched."

Eric stood up. "Yeah..." he started walking away, toward the home office.

Calleigh followed him. "What is it?"

"The fingerprints also had traces of ink." In the office, he went to the computer desk, where there was an assortment of pens and markers rolling loosely in the otherwise empty drawer. He picked up a thick, fluorescent yellow highlighter. It was heavier than it should have been. He pulled off the lid and unscrewed the tip. The tube containing the ink had been removed; a wad of tissue paper was stuffed inside. He gently tugged it out, feeling something hard wrapped in it. He unrolled it, revealing a large, transparent, vivid green pear-shaped stone.

"Looks like we've found our missing emeralds," Calleigh breathed, looking over his shoulder.

They pulled off the tips of other pens in the drawer. Concealed in each was one or more cut emeralds encased in protective layers of tissue. By the end, there were twenty of the brilliant gems laid out on the desk.


	10. Truth Triumphs

Chapter 10: Truth Triumphs

"These are definitely the same emeralds," Ryan concluded, comparing the results from their mass spectrometer to the files from GeoZet.

Eric, Calleigh, Natalia, Valera, and Travers were all in the trace lab, leaning over the table where the emeralds were spread out.

"They're beautiful," Natalia commented.

"Still don't think I'd kill for them," said Valera.

"If we can prove Rosendo hired Torres to steal these," Eric said, "We've got him on accessory to murder in addition to the robbery."

Calleigh nodded thoughtfully. "But if he hired him, it still doesn't explain how they found out the emeralds were on the boat. Unless Onan was involved in it somehow..."

"Someone could've found out she made a reservation on that cruise," Natalia said. "She could have let it slip to Torres in the heat of the moment."

"I doubt it," Calleigh replied. "Onan's real secretive. She even writes her planner in Chinese."

Ryan looked up quickly. "Did you say Chinese?"

"Ryan, didn't you find a Chinese dictionary at Gerard Torres' house?" Natalia asked.

"Yeah. It was brand new, too. Still had the receipt in the cover. It's in evidence now."

Eric and Calleigh looked at him. "So Torres seduced Onan to gain access to her planner," Eric proposed. "But how did he know it'd be in Chinese if he never met her before?"

"It doesn't make sense," said Calleigh. "Unless someone else told him."

"But who would know that?"

"I don't know," she answered. "Let's ask her."

* * *

Clara Onan found herself once again in the interrogation room. She was becoming increasingly convinced that Lieutenant Caine had a vendetta against her, and she knew that, even in America, innocent people could still end up in prison. It was with a trace of resentment in her andalusite-colored eyes that she acknowledged the arrival of the two CSIs, Delko and Duquesne. "What can I help you with this time?" She didn't even try to hide her impatience.

"Who knows you write your planner in Chinese?" Calleigh asked.

"Why?"

"It may be pertinent to the investigation," Eric answered.

Onan frowned, concentrating. "A lot of people might."

"Specifically," Calleigh said, "did anyone know you wrote the schedule for the cruise ship you were taking in that planner?"

A look of realization spread over her face. "Yes. I was just leaving the GeoZet office when I called the cruise line. Sutton's gemologist, Dr. Thurgood...he was in the lobby when I left. He could have been watching me."

"You think he wanted to steal the emeralds?" asked Eric.

"Well who wouldn't?"

* * *

Jack Thurgood was visibly nervous when he was led into the interrogation room. Calleigh and Ryan were waiting for him. She'd asked Ryan to help her with the interrogation, since he'd already met the latest suspect.

"Dr. Thurgood. Nice to see you again," Ryan said.

"What am I doing here?"

Calleigh leaned forward. "We have evidence that you murdered Gerard Torres."

A seasoned criminal would have demanded to know what evidence. An innocent man would have denied the charge. Thurgood just stared, eyes wide with fear behind his black-rimmed glasses. "I don't know what you're talking about," he finally said.

Ryan and Calleigh exchanged glances, then faced the suspect. "This is going to go a lot better for you if you cooperate. Just tell us what happened," Ryan recommended.

Thurgood closed his eyes and shook his head in tiny, jolting movements. "I don't want to go to prison."

"Then you shouldn't have killed him," Calleigh stated.

"I didn't mean to!" Thurgood insisted. He winced as he realized that was a confession. "Mr. Torres approached _me_, okay? He found out the kind of work I do with gemstones, and said we could help each other make a lot of money. I told him no, but he gave me his number anyway. And then when I found out about the emerald deal, about that upstart Onan...You know, I've been in this business for two decades now. I've put in years of dedicated work. And what do I get for it? I get to watch someone else waltz in and get all the glory, all the respect and renown and paid trips to the Bahamas. That should have been me! So yeah, I called him. I wanted those emeralds, and he said he could get them for me."

"And then," Ryan supplied, "he sold them out from under you, handed them over to one of his prison buddies. That had to make you mad."

He was trembling with anger as well as fear now. "He laughed at me. He said I should have expected that, and he thought that I wouldn't have the guts to do anything about it. He thought I would just cut my losses and walk away, because I was too much of a coward to go to the police and lose my job, or to do anything to him since I'm not a real criminal, like he was. He'd _used _me. He took advantage of me, manipulated me. I couldn't stand there and take it, so I hit him. I hit him again and again." He took several deep breaths, calming down. "But I didn't mean to kill him."

"Well, I'm sorry to say, you did," Calleigh pointed out. "And now you have to face the consequences."

"You sure showed him, didn't you," Ryan concluded glibly.

* * *

Horatio came up to Calleigh as she watched the killer being led away in handcuffs.

"Good work," he said. "I expect Dr. Thurgood will accept a plea bargain."

"And David Rosendo?"

"If he knew about the theft beforehand, he could be charged with felony murder. It's equally as likely that the DA will choose not to charge him."

"Either way, he's down the stolen emeralds and a lot of money."

"Indeed. And GeoZet gets their emeralds back." He paused for a second. "I had been fairly certain Clara Onan was involved."

"That wasn't an unreasonable opinion, given what we knew."

"Still, a CSI needs to keep an open mind, and you did."

Calleigh smiled and shook her head. "I was just as convinced as you. It was Eric who reminded me that our job is to judge the evidence, not the suspects."

Horatio nodded. "He's a good CSI. A good man." He glanced at Calleigh as he said this.

"Yes he is," she agreed.

They spotted Eric heading for the exit, his shift over for the day.

"Thank him for me," Horatio said, "for his work on the case."

"I will. He'll want to know what happened with Dr. Thurgood. See you tomorrow, Horatio."

"Tomorrow," he replied.

Calleigh caught up with Eric just as he left the building. He smiled at her and said something. They walked off together into the sunny Miami afternoon.

Horatio watched them leave, chuckled to himself, then moved off in his own direction.

The End


End file.
